


A Treatise on Pinnipeds

by CandyQueenAO3



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Whump (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dating, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gift Fic, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, MerMay 2020, Pansexual Crowley (Good Omens), Selkie Aziraphale (Good Omens), Sexual Tension, Slice of Life, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Supernatural Elements, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyQueenAO3/pseuds/CandyQueenAO3
Summary: Anthony J. Crowley has left his adulterous ex-fiance and uprooted his old life to purchase a seaside cabin to start fresh and get away from it all.  One night, he stumbles across a man sitting on the beach with eyes the color of the sea and a soft, white coat over his shoulders to match...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 180
Kudos: 346
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Our Own Side





	1. The First Dawn of a New Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CinnabarMint](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnabarMint/gifts).



> This fic is for my dear, dear friend, Witchie! I love you, you fiend, and I hope that you feel happier soon.

**_“5!”_ **

“...5…”

**_“4!”_ **

“...4…”

**_“3!”_ **

“...3…”

**_“2!”_ **

“...2…”

**_“1!”_ **

“...1…”

**_“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!”_ **

“...wahoo…”

Crowley knocked back a swig of Apple Pucker (terrible to drink straight, but it was all he had in the cabin at the moment) as he watched the screaming masses on his television lose their minds over the ball in Times Square finally dropping. Normally, Crowley would be out and about celebrating with his friends and fiance (“ _ex-_ fiance”, his mind bitterly stated), but ever since he’d walked in on her sleeping with the neighbor, things had gotten somewhat solitary.

It was the whole reason he found himself celebrating New Year’s Eve alone on a beachside cabin in Sussex. He’d sold the Flower Shop-Flat-Combo he owned in London, dumped all of his ex’s stuff on the stoop of her house, and bought the run-down cabin without a second look back. When Crowley had purchased the cabin from one Mr. Shadwell (first-name not given), he’d been assured by the eccentric old man that, while somewhat of a fixer-upper, it was nice and private - _perfect_ for ensuring that former lovers never came snooping around to try and “win” him back. It had been Crowley’s attempt at re-building a ruined life and future, and he didn’t regret a second of it. However, it _did_ make one feel somewhat lonely, living as far away from civilization as he did…

When the Americans on his television started launching off their fireworks, Crowley decided he would do the same with the ones he had somewhat legally purchased. He stood up and walked onto his rickety porch, snatching up a bright red box off the coffee table as he did so. The night was frigid and cloudless, lit only by the stars and moon. Using the celestial bodies to see by, Crowley wound through the beachgrass that grew wild around his porch and made his way down to the shoreline proper. He’d need to make sure he was _far_ from his home in case of any errant sparks.

As he approached the water, however, he saw a shape that stood out against the flat line of the horizon. Though it was hard to see completely, it was clear that the shape was a man. The man sat on the sand, dripping wet and completely naked save for a snow-white fur coat wrapped around his body like a blanket as he stared straight up at the sky.

Crowley’s mind immediately leapt to “Shipwreck Survivor” and he broke into a sprint, dropping the fireworks while waving his hands and shouting, “Oi! Are you okay, mate?”

The man let out a strangled gasp and turned to face him. Crowley instantly found his running (and his thoughts) grinding to a screeching halt.

The man on the beach’s skin was pale, almost luminous, with a tuft of curls atop his head that perfectly matched the color of the fur coat around his shoulders. Even in the low light, Crowley could see how the stranger’s eyes were slightly larger than normal, with dilated pupils circled by an iris the color of _ice._ The other man clutched his coat tighter and staggered to his feet. His gaze darted back to the dark waters of the sea, and Crowley lowered his hands in a calm gesture.

“Easy, _easy,_ I’m not gonna hurt you. I _just_ want to know if you’re okay…” the redhead said carefully.

The blonde man licked the sea-salt from his own lips as he shakily replied, “I’m fine, thank you. Just… enjoying the stars, is all.”

“You’re out stargazing while stark naked and soaked to the bone?” Crowley deadpanned, gesturing at the stranger’s bare legs. “How have you not frozen to death?”

 _“Some_ of us just have better cold tolerance,” the stranger sniffed. “Besides, I’m _not_ naked. I have my coat.” He fluffed the fur of it pointedly.

Crowley groaned. “Fine. Whatever.”

He was _about_ to chase this bizarre man off his private property, when he happened upon a thought. This fur-clad stranger was the first real human interaction he’d had had since moving to the middle of bumble-fuck nowhere, and he’d be remiss if he didn’t take full advantage of it. 

Even if the other guy might potentially be insane...

“This is gonna sound sudden, I bought some fireworks to ring in the new year. Want to set them off with me?” Crowley asked hopefully.

The blonde man quirked an eyebrow.

“‘Fireworks’? What are those?” he asked, completely serious.

“You- wha-? You don’t know what fireworks are? Are you foreign or something?” Crowley sputtered.

“Yes,” the man admitted with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“Really? You sound English, though. Where are you from?”

The stranger pointed a finger at the water. “There; far, _far_ beyond the horizon. I come to this beach every so often when I want to get away from my kind for a bit.”

That still didn’t tell Crowley where his new friend had come from, but he supposed it was as good an answer as he was going to get without looking like he was prying.

“Alright then,” he finally settled on saying. “Got a name?”

The man smiled back (with canines that were sharper than a normal human’s should be) and answered, “Aziraphale.”

Crowley repeated the name out loud, then gave his own. “Anthony J. Crowley,” he began, and held his hand out. “But you can just call me Crowley. All my friends do. Er, that is, all my friends _did.”_

Aziraphale glanced down at the offered hand, frowned, then gazed sadly at the redhead.

“You don’t have friends anymore?” he asked quietly. The corners of his mouth were turned down in sympathy. “What happened to them?”

Crowley clenched his hand to a fist and withdrew it. He slapped on a pained grimace. “Well, um… I caught my ex-fiance cheating on me and my friends took _her_ side. They thought I’d done something to _make_ her cheat, like maybe I’d been a selfish or cruel lover. So, I decided ‘who needs them’ and left.”

“That’s _dreadful!”_ Aziraphale gasped. “But what’s a ‘fiance’? Is it like a mate?”

“Now you’re just havin’ me on!” Crowley huffed angrily, hands on his hips.

When Aziraphale didn’t burst into sudden laughter with a cry of “gotcha!”, Crowley was forced to concede that, perhaps, the other man _didn’t_ know what a fiance was. Maybe that word didn’t exist in his native language. The redhead threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Whatever. Yes. A fiance’s like a would-be mate. Do you want to see the fireworks or not?”

Aziraphale’s mood shifted, and he nodded his head eagerly. With that, Crowley retrieved the red box and plonked it down in the sand. He fished a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on. Almost instantly, Aziraphale jumped back with a yelp, clinging to his coat protectively.

“Goodness, gracious! Keep that _away_ from me!” he demanded, frowning like the sight of the flames personally offended him. “It could set my coat on fire and if anything happened to it… well, I’d certainly be quite cross.”

“I’m not here to commit arson!” the other man said, fixing him with an unfriendly glare. “It’s for the fireworks!”

To demonstrate, he squatted down and lit the fuse at the side of the box which instantly began sparking. Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he scooted closer to the thing, leaning over it just as the fuse was consumed.

“Fascinating…”

_“Get the fuck away from there!”_

Crowley lunged forward and tackled Aziraphale to the sand just as the lid to the box exploded outward, sending a miniature artillery-shell like projectile thirty feet in the air. The first firework exploded in a hail of green lights and Aziraphale gaped open-mouthed at the spectacle. 

With a snarl, Crowley propped himself up on his elbows to glare down at the body beneath him. “Oi! Dumbass! What the _fuck_ did you think you were…” his tirade petered and died at the sight of the fireworks reflected in Aziraphale’s eyes; at the way the colors danced across his pale irises like a rainbow after the first storm. “...doing…”

Aziraphale’s face was locked firmly skyward, not paying the slightest bit of attention to Crowley. The redhead didn’t mind, though, nor did he care that he was _technically_ missing the pyrotechnic display that he had paid good money for. For a few minutes in time, he was perfectly happy to watch the lights _dance_ in this strange man’s ethereal gaze.

Aziraphale smiled brightly once it ended. “That was _amazing!_ Do you have any more of those ‘fireworks’?”

“Ah, no, sorry. Just bought the one box, I’m afraid,” Crowley mumbled, still transfixed by those eyes.

Aziraphale looked sad.

“That’s disappointing,” he said, face falling.

Thinking quickly, Crowley scrambled into a seated position and fished his phone out of his pocket. A quick Google search had him bringing up a YouTube video with another fireworks show on it.

“Here! There’s more!”

Aziraphale scooted closer and gasped in delight, giving a little wiggle that had his coat slipping down a bit lower around him, showing off a pair of creamy shoulders. Crowley was briefly seized by the thought of what it might feel like to sink his teeth into them, then was immediately appalled by his treacherous libido’s thoughts. 

For Somebody’s sake, he’d known the guy for barely an hour!

He decided to throw himself entirely into watching firework videos with his newest friend. The two of them sat side-by-side on the beach, bodies pressed close together, until Crowley’s phone died just as the first rosy fingers of dawn were creeping over the horizon.

 _“Bloody Hell,_ how long were we sitting here?!” the redhead groaned, rubbing his sleep-aching eyes.

Aziraphale scrambled back to his feet. “Goodness! I hadn’t intended to keep you for so long, my dear! Do forgive me,” he pleaded.

“Nah, there’s nothing to forgive,” Crowley replied, standing to join him. “It was a better way to spend New Year’s than I had been intending. Glad I got to greet the first dawn of 2021 with you.”

He _would_ have face-palmed at his own careless flirt, but Aziraphale seemed gladdened by his words.

“Me too, Crowley,” he said happily. Then, he turned his face down and said quietly, “Do you think I could maybe… visit you again?”

Crowley stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried not to let it show on his face just how _excited_ he was by the prospect. “Y-yeah! ‘Course! When did you want to come by?”

“Would tomorrow morning be okay?” Aziraphale asked, raising his royal-blue eyes to meet Crowley’s amber ones.

Crowley held back a joyous whoop and managed to keep a straight face. “Sounds good to me. Do you know where I live?” he asked.

“I’m assuming over there,” the blonde said. He jerked his head in the direction of the _only cabin for miles._

“Yup. Right sleuth you are,” Crowley answered.

Aziraphale adjusted the coat on his shoulders and pulled up the hood until it hung from his body like an assassin’s cloak. 

“Excellent! I’ll see you tomorrow just after sunrise!” he said.

Crowley was about to offer him a ride home, when Aziraphale turned and ran for the water, coat billowing behind him.

“Wha-? Aziraphale? Aziraphale!”

Before Crowley could stop him, Aziraphale dove headlong into the surf. The redhead let out a strangled cry and moved to pull the other from the water (surely that heavy coat would weigh him down and _drown_ him!) but he froze in place.

Aziraphale’s coat tightened around his limbs as if it were _alive,_ and he ducked under the water. When he re-emerged, it was not as a human, but as an adorably chubby seal with fur the color of winter mist.

“Az… Aziraphale?”

The seal - _Aziraphale_ \- turned to face him. It gave a jaunty little wave with one of its fore-flippers, then disappeared beneath the water. From the shore, Crowley waved weakly, his mind struggling to reconcile Aziraphale the _man_ with Aziraphale the _seal_.

He staggered back to his cabin, reeling from the thought that he had just spent an entire evening flirting with a _Selkie_ of all things.

Perhaps the world would make more sense after a nice, long nap...


	2. A Life in a Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale grow closer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for brief implied/referenced rape in regards to a human stealing a Selkie Coat.

As it turned out, the world did _not,_ in fact, make more sense after a nap.

After sleeping for six straight hours and waking up at noon, Crowley felt more confuddled than _ever_! 

Selkies were _real?!_

That thought plagued him throughout the rest of the day, into the evening, haunted his dreams at night, and even carried over into the next morning.

Crowley was about to write the whole thing off as a drunken hallucination (never mind the fact that he hadn’t even been _tipsy_ when he met Aziraphale) when he heard a polite rap on his front door. The redhead jolted in surprise, nearly knocking over his coffee table in his haste to peep through his curtains.

Sure enough, it _hadn’t_ been a hallucination.

Aziraphale was standing on the porch - _brazen as anything!_ \- with his hands folded primly in front of his stomach and his coat _(“his fucking SKIN!”_ Crowley’s mind corrected) wrapped around himself to preserve his modesty. The selkie was smiling pleasantly, his prussian-blue eyes observing the cabin with keen interest.

Crowley ducked away from the curtain and bit down on his knuckle. The slight pain grounded him, in spite of his mind’s frantic running.

_Holy shit! I invited a Selkie to my house! Shitshitshitshitshitshit!_

He nearly screamed when Aziraphale knocked again.

“Crowley? Are you in there, my dear? I came to visit, as I promised!” The Selkie’s voice was muffled beyond the door, but clear enough to hear the slight concern in his tone.

Crowley, coward that he was, sat down on the floor with his back to the door and prayed that the creature would think he wasn’t home and _leave._ He waited for several tense moments.

Then, Aziraphale spoke up again, only this time his voice was laced with _profound_ sadness. “I… I guess you changed your mind about wanting to see me again.”

_Shit! Does he know I’m here?!_

Crowley lifted a _tiiiiny_ corner of his curtains and peered out again. Aziraphale’s entire posture was slumped in heartbroken resignation and his eyes shimmered with saltwater that had _nothing_ to do with the sea. The Selkie wiped his tears away with the arm of his coat.

“I suppose I’ll have to find another beach to visit…” he mumbled, just soft enough to where Crowley had to strain to hear him through the door. Then he lifted his voice. “I’m not sure if you can hear me, but I would appreciate you not telling anyone you’ve met me. Last thing I need is a human stealing my coat and forcing me to… well…” He turned and started walking off the porch, but not before casting one last glance back. “It was nice being your friend for a night. I’ll miss watching fireworks with you.”

Crowley watched him go, with a painful twisting in his chest that he couldn’t quite give a name to. 

_Good. Git on outta here… just go back to your home…_

The Selkie continued his mournful one-seal procession back to the sea, and the feeling in Crowley’s chest tightened until it constricted his lungs and arrested his breathing.

_‘Friend’... he called me his friend. Don’t have much of those nowadays… and he **is** pretty cute… and soft… and nice… _

Crowley remembered the way Aziraphale’s eyes had shone with open awe under the light of the fireworks and how, in that moment, he’d been transfixed by _them_ rather than the pyrotechnic display overhead.

Crowley leapt to his feet with a cry of, “What the _fuck_ am I doing?!”

Outside, Aziraphale had _just_ stepped into the water, when the cabin door burst open and Crowley darted out, screaming, _“Wait!”_ at the top of his lungs. The beachgrass tripped him up and he sprawled into a gangly heap of limbs on the sand, but he quickly picked himself back up again to continue his desperate run.   
“Aziraphale! Wait! Don’t go! Wait!!”

“Crowley? I thought you were ignoring me…” Aziraphale said, inching closer into the surf, despite the naked hope in his voice.

“I… I was… kinda,” Crowley admitted sheepishly. “But I was wrong! I was just… overwhelmed. I’m sorry that I made you think you weren’t wanted. I _do_ want you! As a friend! Of course! That- agh!”

Aziraphale giggled at his friend’s flustered embarrassment and stepped back onto the beach. “It’s alright, my dear. I understand that my presence may be somewhat… shocking.”

“Got that right,” Crowley chuckled and dusted the sand off the front of his clothes, before offering a gallant hand to the Selkie. “Well? How about that visit I promised? Let me give you a tour of my home?”

Aziraphale placed a warm, soft hand in Crowley’s. 

“I’d _love_ to, my dear,”

***~*~*~*~***

**February 14, 2021**

Crowley spread the tablecloth out over the sand, weighing down each corner with a rock, before setting a picnic basket down right in the middle. He plonked himself down atop the red-and-white cloth and waited.

After a few minutes, a mop of blonde curls poked up from the water and Aziraphale began a steady breaststroke to shore. He emerged from the water, coat ever-present (yet somehow miraculously dry) around his shoulders. 

He shook the seawater out of his hair. “Crowley! You’re here early!”

“Just getting our picnic all set up,” the redhead explained, gesturing at the spread. “Happy Valentine’s Day, angel.”

Aziraphale sat down on the tablecloth, picnic basket between them. “I’ve been meaning to ask… why do you call me ‘angel’? What’s an angel?”

Crowley froze from where he’d started pulling out a bottle of iced champagne and two flute glasses.

“Uhh… well… angels are mythological creatures with- with wings and halos and they’re supposed to be kind and beautiful and-”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him, but Crowley could see the faint dusting of pink across his cheeks.

“Of _course_ you’re beautiful,” the redhead scoffed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve got such pretty eyes and nice hair. In your seal form, you’re so cute that I just wanna _squish ya!”_

Aziraphale hid a snort of laughter behind his hand. “ _Please_ don’t ‘squish’ me,” he giggled.

_God, even his LAUGH is adorable._

Crowley managed to loosen the cork of the campagne enough to where it shot free with a _pop!,_ arcing through the air before coming to rest a metre away. Aziraphale whooped and clapped his hands, like he’d never seen such a feat before. For all Crowley knew, he hadn’t. 

“Allow me to introduce you to your first taste of alcohol,” he said, pouring a flute and passing it to the Selkie.

Aziraphale took it carefully and brought it up for a sniff. He scrunched up his face.

“This tickles my nose,” he remarked, swirling the liquid and watching the bubbles rise. “Is all ‘alcohol’ like this?”

Crowley shook his head and poured himself a helping. “Nah, just the sparkling ones. Give it a try! Tell me what you think!”

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment, but sipped obediently. As soon as he did so, his eyes went wide with wonder.

“Goodness! This is incredible!” he gasped.

“I’m glad you like it. Just don’t drink too much too fast or you’ll end up sick,”

Aziraphale made a tiny noise of agreement and carefully drained his glass of every drop. When it was gone, he asked if he could have more, but Crowley gently took the flute from his hands. “In a moment, angel. I’ve got something else for you to celebrate today.”

He reached back into the basket and produced a red, heart-shaped box. “Ta-daa!”

“Aww, you got me a heart!” Aziraphale cooed, hugging the box to his chest.

“Wha-? No, no, you- you _pinniped!”_ Crowley objected. “It’s what’s _inside_ the heart that’s the gift!”

The Selkie turned the box over in his hands, located the knot on the string tying the two halves together, and pulled on it. The string fell away, bringing the lid with it, revealing a tin of chocolate truffles concealed inside. Each one was so dark it was almost black, and shaped like scallop shells.

“Ooh! What are _these_ ? They smell _incredible!”_ he marvelled, poking a truffle with his fingertip.

Crowley smirked and picked one up to hold out like an offering. “‘S chocolate. I can _guarantee_ you’ve never had anything like this before.”

He pressed the sweet a little closer, expecting Aziraphale to take it from him. Instead, the Selkie wrapped his mouth around the truffle, tongue grazing against Crowley’s fingertips. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut and he uttered a breathless moan at the taste. Crowley’s face heated up at the scene straight out of one of his dirty fantasies. Aziraphale then pulled away, a thin string of saliva connecting his mouth to the human’s fingers.

“Those ‘chocolates’ are delicious!” he exclaimed, reaching into the box for more. “Thank you _so much,_ dear!”

Crowley shook his head to clear the fog of sudden lust from his mind.

“‘S nothing, angel. ‘S wot you do for people you love- er- _care about_ on Valentine’s Day,” He refused to mention that he had driven two hours round-trip in his shitty ‘05 PT Cruiser to the nearest city-center to find a proper chocolatier.

Aziraphale smiled, lips stained with chocolate that Crowley _desperately_ wanted to kiss and lick away. “Oh! Is _that_ what ‘Valentine’s Day’ is about? Showing friends that you care about them?” he asked excitedly.

“Well, not _just_ friends. It’s also for family and… lovers,” Crowley drawled, voice cracking a little at the last word.

Aziraphale hummed and popped another chocolate into his mouth.

“Oh, goodness!” he suddenly blurted. “Had I known that’s what Valentine’s Day was for, I would have gotten you something too!” He cast his eyes about, brow furrowed in thought. “A-ha!” He quickly began shovelling every last bit of chocolate into his mouth like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter.

Crowley watched, bemused. Had even _tasted_ them? When all the truffles were gone, Aziraphale abruptly stood up and tucked the empty box under his arm. “Be right back, my dear!”

“‘Back’? Where are you going? Aziraphale?!”

The Selkie ran down the beach. When he reached the water, he dove straight in, still clinging to the box. Crowley caught a glimpse of a flipper, then Aziraphale was gone.

***~*~*~*~***

Three days.

It had been three days since Aziraphale vanished under the waves with an empty box of chocolates promising to “be back soon”. Crowley had waited on the beach for an hour, then, when no Selkie was forthcoming, packed up the picnic and sadly returned to his cabin.

For three days, he’d languished in uncertainty.

Had he done something to upset Aziraphale? 

Had he gone too fast? 

Had he been _too_ obvious in his interest and this was just a Selkie way of letting him down gently?

On the dawn of the third day, just when Crowley was beginning to give up hope of ever seeing his friend again, a familiar, oh-so-polite knock sounded through the sepulchre-like stillness of his cabin.

It was _shameful_ how fast he flew out of his bedroom, still clad in pajamas, and threw open the front door. His heart leapt to his throat in a combination of relief and _outrage_ when he saw Aziraphale standing on the porch, holding a sodden heart-shaped box in his hand that had been slightly warped from the seawater.

“I’m back, Crowley! I got you a Valentine’s Day present too! Although…” Aziraphale glanced back at the beach. “Where did our picnic go? I was only gone for a few minutes.”

“Ang- wha- a _few minutes?!”_ Crowley sputtered angrily. “You were gone for _three days!”_

Aziraphale’s smile dropped with such speed that it practically produced a sonic boom.

“Th-three days?” he whimpered. “I… I thought it was less than an hour. Time flows so differently when you dive as deep as I do and can’t see the sun…”

The Selkie looked so _guilty_ that he had upset his friend, that Crowley felt all the anger flow out of him like air escaping a balloon. 

“‘S alright, angel. I’m not mad anymore. I was just… worried. I thought maybe I accidentally chased you off or something,” he sighed.

 _“Never,_ my dear!” Aziraphale objected, holding the box out. “I was out hunting oysters for your gift!”

Crowley cautiously took the box. He didn’t _want_ to open it and find a pile of mouldering shellfish, but for his Selkie, he could swallow his disgust. Crowley lifted the lid, holding his breath against the inevitable stench of old fish…

...but felt it driven out of his body anyways.

The box was stuffed to the brim with pink _pearls!_ There had to be _hundreds_ of them; enough to buy his flowershop back _ten times over_ with money left over to purchase that vintage Bentley he’d been eyeing.

Crowley replaced the lid with trembling hands and lowered the box to his deck table. “Th-this is… I can’t _possibly_ accept this,” he stammered.

Aziraphale blew a puff of air between his lips with a “flblblt” sound.

“It’s no trouble at all, really. Those shiny things are _worthless_ to my kind, but I’d figured _you_ would like them and-”

The Selkie staggered back as he suddenly found his arms full of grateful human.

 _“Holy shit, Aziraphale!_ You have _no_ idea what this means to me! _Thank you!”_

Aziraphale hummed (Crowley noticed he did that a lot when he was happy) and hugged him back.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my dear…”

***~*~*~*~***

**April 1, 2020**

Crowley sat on his mattress, Aziraphale’s seal-skin coat folded in his lap. From beyond the bathroom door, he could hear the sounds of the shower running and the strains of unearthly singing. Earlier that morning, Aziraphale had come for his almost daily visit, and Crowley had decided to teach him how to make crepes. It had taken a few _very messy_ attempts before they’d both ended up with a plate of semi-burnt crepes between them and a batter-covered Selkie.

Crowley had then introduced Aziraphale to a _miraculous invention_ called “indoor plumbing” that he had found _almost_ as interesting as the crepes.

Now, the redhead sat outside his own bathroom door, listening to Aziraphale sing while he tried not to picture what the Selkie looked like naked, covered in soap, with water running down his pale body in rivulets…

_Oi! Get a hold of yourself, Anthony!_

To distract himself, Crowley ran his fingers over the soft fur. Admittedly, he didn’t know much about Selkies. The extent of his knowledge boiled down to: People who can turn into, and back from, seals by using a magical fur coat.

He was pulled from his lamentations on his ignorance of Selkie lore by the sounds of the shower turning off. Aziraphale stepped out of the steam-filled room, a towel _almost_ as fluffy as his coat wrapped around his middle, showing off an expanse of broad, soft chest. Crowley was thankful for the seal-skin covering his lap.

“These human inventions of yours are _wondrous!_ ‘Crepes’, ‘showers’, _whatever_ will your kind think of next?” Aziraphale crossed the room and held out his hand, asking without words for his coat back so he could re-dress himself.

Instead of giving it back, however, Crowley teasingly held it away at arm’s length.

“Nope. Uh-uh. This is _mine_ now,” the redhead joked with a grin. “You can’t have it.”

He had expected Aziraphale to roll his eyes and demand his skin back. Therefore, he wasn’t prepared in the _least_ to see the Selkie burst into terrified sobs and screams.

“No! _No!_ Please! Don’t do this to me, Crowley! Please! Please, no!!”

Aziraphale fell to his knees and covered his face as great, heaving wails shook his entire frame. Crowley was stunned into silence for half a second, but his friend’s heartrending weeping jolted him into action. He crouched down beside Aziraphale and wrapped the coat around his trembling shoulders before gathering him into his arms.

“Ssh, ssh, angel. It’s okay. I was _joking._ It was just a joke…” he whispered, rocking them back and forth until Aziraphale’s cries calmed into soft whimpers. Crowley lifted his face to look at him, then wiped away his tears with his thumb. “What _was_ that just now? Did I accidentally hurt you?”

Aziraphale sniffled and lifted one half of his coat. Crowley scooted under it until both of them were wrapped in the soft fur.

The blonde chuckled bitterly. “I’m not sure how much you know about my kind, but forcibly taking a Selkie’s coat _binds_ them to you. A Selkie with a stolen coat cannot return to the sea without it, and many evil-minded humans use this to force my kind into marrying, sleeping with, and bearing offspring for their captors…”

Crowley gaped down at the man in his arms.

“You’re _serious?_ They can… having someone take your skin can force you to…”

Aziraphale nodded weakly. Crowley suddenly tightened his hold, pressing Aziraphale’s face into his neck. “Oh, _fuck,_ angel! If I’d known that… that… I wouldn’t have made that _awful_ joke! God… for a minute there you must have thought… I’m _so, so sorry!”_

“It’s alright, my dear, it’s alright. You didn’t know. I shouldn’t have assumed that you would-”

“Bullshit!” Crowley snapped. “You have _every right_ to assume! This is a _legitimate concern_ for your people! I mean… _fuck!”_

Aziraphale gently took his friend’s face in his hand and pulled it towards himself. “Regardless of whether my concerns are justified, I should _never_ have thought - even for a _moment_ \- that you would keep me trapped here. I _trust you,_ Crowley; with _everything_ that I am.”

The Selkie leaned up and pressed a quick peck to his friend’s cheek. At the first touch of his lips, Crowley’s face heated up to an almost frightening degree and he made a strangled noise that sounded somewhat like, “ngk!”

Aziraphale simply beamed.

***~*~*~*~***

**May 28, 2021**

Aziraphale sat in the living room of Crowley’s cabin, flipping idly through the pages of a book. His human friend had been teaching him to read, but it was slow going. His eyes, normally built for the dim light underwater, made him near-sighted on land. Crowley had been nagging him for some weeks to let him take him to an “optometrist” for “glasses”, but Aziraphale had been reluctant to do so. Although, it _would_ be nice to be able to read without practically squishing the book to his face…

Earlier that morning, when Aziraphale showed up for a visit and reading lessons, Crowley had apologized _profusely,_ saying that he’d made enough money selling the pearls he had received and was now able to purchase something he’d called a “Bentley” and that he needed to meet the seller _right away._ Aziraphale had, of course, waved him off and encouraged him to go and Crowley had told him to make himself comfortable.

That had been several hours ago, but the Selkie didn’t really mind. It was nice being able to lounge on a “sofa” and try to catch up on his reading practice…

...which was interrupted by the sounds of a car horn blaring.

Aziraphale grumbled at the noise, then marched over to the window. Throwing open the blinds, he was met with the sight of Crowley draped saucily over the hood of his new Bentley, twirling the keys in his fingers.

“Hey, angel, come take a look at my new girl!” the redhead called, a toothy grin plastered on his face.

Aziraphale was about to go to him, when another car, a red one, pulled up in the driveway. The Selkie didn’t know what kind it was, but it looked _fancy._ Crowley, however, seemed to know what kind it was, and his face paled like he’d just seen Satan himself. The red car’s door opened and a woman climbed out. She was tall, of a height with Crowley, dressed in a slinky black dress with hair in a matching shade that shone like liquid obsidian down her back.

Aziraphale _instantly_ didn’t like her, though he couldn’t say why.

“Anthony! _There_ you are! I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you!” she said.

“M-maya? What are _you_ doing here?” Crowley gulped.

Aziraphale stifled a gasp.

That was Crowley’s _ex-fiance!_

His dislike morphed to _keen_ hatred. How _dare_ she show her face again!

Maya strode up to Crowley, who slid off the hood of his Bentley, keeping the vehicle between them like a shield.

“I came to find you,” Maya said, stroking a blood-red nail over the car’s bonnet. “I came to _apologize.”_

Aziraphale watched with a sinking heart as Crowley stiffened. “You- wha- _apologize?!”_ The last word was practically shrieked.

“Yes. Apologize,” the woman explained. “I’m sorry I cheated, and want you to take me back.”

“T-take you back? After sneaking behind my back for who-knows-how-long?! If you have loved me, like you _claimed,_ you wouldn’t have _done that!”_ the redhead objected.

Maya sidled around the Bentley, pressing herself close into Crowley’s personal space. Her hands caressed his bicep and Aziraphale could see him shudder in revulsion.

“I was _wrong_ , Annie,” she purred. “I want us to be _together_ again.”

“How did you even _find me?!”_

“Would you believe me if I told you it was actually a coincidence?” Maya replied. Her hands drifted to his chest. “I saw you buy this fancy new car of yours and followed you back here so we could… talk.”

“‘Talk’? Really? What part of ‘never talk to me again’ did you not understand?!”

“Oh, hush. We both know you don’t mean that…” Maya said as her arms came to hook around the back of his neck.

When Aziraphale saw Crowley struggling to get away, he decided he’d seen enough. He rearranged his coat so that it hung off his body with one shoulder exposed and a gap large enough to reveal his shapely thigh and calf. He mussed up his hair, and, without another moment’s hesitation, he pushed open the cabin door to lean against the frame.

 _“Darling!”_ he shouted. “Are you home? Come back to bed, I _missed you!”_

Maya startled at the sudden appearance of the blonde man, and Crowley took this opportunity to duck out of her hold. Thankfully, he’d always been one to think fast on his feet.

“Angel, come meet our guest,” he said, straightening up and gesturing to the flabbergasted woman in front of him. “This is _Maya._ You remember me talking about _Maya?”_

Aziraphale sashayed down the porch steps, throwing a bit more sway into his hips then he normally did, and practically hung off of Crowley. “Maya… is she your old college roommate? Or was it that barista who kept trying to get you to sign petitions?”

Crowley turned to face Aziraphale, not bothering to hide how his eyes raked hungrily over his form. “No, my dear husband, she’s my ex-fiance. The one who could never satisfy me the way _you_ do, you wanton little thing.”

 _“‘Husband’ ?!”_ yelped Maya, staggering back.

“Ah, yes! I’d forgotten with how little you talk about her,” Aziraphale exclaimed, sounding for all the world like he’d just recalled where he’d heard her name before.

“You’re _married?!”_ Maya snapped, all traces of her previous flirtatious mood gone.

 _“Absolutely!_ I _really_ must thank you, good woman, for foolishly giving him up. He’s the best husband I could ever ask for,” Aziraphale sighed happily. His fingers raked through Crowley’s hair, messing it up, then he yanked him down for a sloppy, wet, open-mouthed kiss.

Crowley groaned and crushed Aziraphale to his chest, devouring the other with his mouth. He heard Maya stomp off, slam her car door, then peel out of the driveway fast enough to leave skid marks.

The two of them continued their “passionate embrace” until Maya’s car was out of sight, whereupon they broke apart with gasping breaths.

 _“Holy shit, Aziraphale!_ Thanks for helping me out back there!” Crowley panted.

“Anytime, my darl- er, my dear!” Aziraphale replied happily, smoothing his hair back down. He straightened out his coat and gestured to the Bentley. “So, tell me all about your new ‘girl’.”

“Huh? ‘Girl’?” Crowley mumbled, still somewhat punch-drunk. Then he blinked rapidly and came back to himself. “The car! Right! Anywho…”

He quickly launched into an explanation of the vehicle's features, and the plans he had for it. Aziraphale listened attentively, not understanding _half_ the things his friend was saying. While Crowley was distracted with showing off the engine, Aziraphale lightly touched at his lips with his fingertips.

He wondered if he’d ever forget that kiss…

***~*~*~*~***

**August 25, 2021**

Crowley rolled over in bed, dreaming of cuddling with a soft, squishy seal, when his nose was assailed by the smell of burning and the blare of the smoke alarm. He leapt out of bed, still half asleep, and ran into the kitchen.

His cabin was on fire!

Or, well, not the _cabin…_ but the oven might have been, with how much smoke it was billowing.

 _“Crowley!”_ wailed Aziraphale, trying to wave off the acrid air.

“Aziraphale! Stay back!”

Crowley seized the Selkie by his shoulders and dragged him away from the oven. The redhead flung the oven doors open. Through the haze, he could see a charred, lumpy brick scorched black under the broiler. Crowley turned off the oven and slammed the door shut, suffocating the flames.

He then picked up a broom and whacked the smoke detector until he finally hit the right button and silenced its shrieking. Once that was done, he opened all the windows in the kitchen, as well as the front door to let in clean, fresh air.

“What the _bloody Hell_ were you thinking?!” he snapped, rounding on Aziraphale. “That was _fire!_ You could have gotten _hurt!_ Your coat! It could have- it could have-”

Crowley dropped into a kitchen chair with a heavy sigh and buried his face in his hands. He didn’t know what would happen if Aziraphale’s coat was destroyed, but, judging by how terrified he’d been by the lighter on their first meeting, it wasn’t anything good.

_I could have lost him…_

“H… Happy Birthday…”

Crowley jerked his head up at the sound of Aziraphale’s timid voice. “Huh?”

The Selkie eyes were shining with unshed tears as he twisted a sleeve in his fingers.

“I… I said, ‘Happy Birthday’, Crowley. I was only trying to bake you a cake…” he sniffed.

“You… you remembered my birthday?” Crowley asked in a husky, disbelieving voice. Aziraphale nodded, but didn’t look at him. “Oh, _angel.”_

The human was up on his feet fast enough to send his chair clattering backwards. He backed the Selkie up against the counter and claimed his mouth in a frantic kiss. Aziraphale squeaked in surprise, but quickly melted into it, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck and pulling him closer. Just in time, too, as Crowley had been a split second away from jumping back and apologizing profusely for the unwanted advance. 

Judging by Aziraphale’s hums and chirps of delight, he needn’t have worried.

***~*~*~*~***

**October 31st, 2021**

“So you’re telling me that you humans just… carve faces into vegetables?” Aziraphale asked, watching his boyfriend gouge a jagged smile into a hollowed-out pumpkin.

“Yup. ‘S tradition. Keeps the ghosts and other bugaboos away tonight,”

“G-ghosts?!” the Selkie whimpered, then looked around the cabin as if expecting an apparition to jump out at any moment.

“Ghosts aren’t _real,_ angel. It’s just for fun,” Crowley sighed good-naturedly, delivering a vicious stab to start on the jack-o-lantern’s eyeholes.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you thought the same about Selkies… and look at you now!” Aziraphale huffed.

“Yup,” Crowley replied, popping the ‘P’. “Didn’t think they were real. Now I’ve got the most gorgeous of them all sharing my bed every night.”

Aziraphale smiled, turning pink. “Oh hush, you fiend,” He sat at the table beside his human boyfriend. “What other traditions does this ‘Halloween’ entail?”

“Personally? I just hunker down for a night of scary movies and junk food,” Crowley replied, twirling the knife expertly in his hands.

“What are ‘movies’ and why are they scary?”

The redhead shot him a wolfish grin. 

“Oh, you are in for a _treat!_ I’m thinking we could start with ‘Pet Sematary’ - not that godawful remake, the original - then maybe follow up with ‘Night of the Living Dead’. Always a good time, that one…”

Seeing Crowley so enthusiastic about sharing his interests, the way his face was cast in golden light from the three other jack-o-lanterns in the dim kitchen, Aziraphale was helpless to do anything else but blurt out, _“God,_ do I love you.”

Crowley’s knife missed the pumpkin and thudded into the wood of their kitchen table at the same time Aziraphale clapped a hand over his mouth. The redhead swallowed, then asked in a trembling voice, “Did you… did you just say you love me?”

Welp… catfish was out of the net. May as well go all in.

“Yes, Crowley, I do. I… I’ve loved you since April,” Aziraphale answered, looking into amber eyes blown wide with shock.

“Since… since _April?”_ Crowley asked. He laid down his knife and leaned across the small table to take the Selkie’s face in his. “Angel… I’ve loved you since that first night we met; when I saw the fireworks _dance_ in your eyes.”

Aziraphale sucked in a sharp breath, then kissed his boyfriend- his _love_ \- hard enough to bruise their lips.

***~*~*~*~***

**December 25, 2021**

“Merry Christmas, angel. I love you,” Crowley said, passing a small green-and-red wrapped parcel to the man seated on the couch beside him.

Aziraphale burbled happily, and peeled back the paper and opened the box. Inside, nested on a cushion of blue velvet, was a pair of reading glasses.

“Are these what I think they are?” he whispered, fighting the urge to cry a mess of happy tears.

“Yup. They’re not prescription, since you won’t go to the eye doctor with me, but they should still make it easier to read, nonetheless,” Crowley smiled, lifting the glasses from their case and slipping them onto Aziraphale’s face.

The Selkie blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the sudden influx of visual acuity. When they landed on Crowley, those happy tears finally fell.

“Oh, _darling,”_ he sighed, cupping the other’s face in his hands. “You’re even _more beautiful_ up close!”

The man in question let out a groan. “Stop talking nonsense, angel, and gimme my present,” he griped, but Aziraphale could tell that he was pleased.

He released his love’s face and placed the box in his lap aside. “Well… your present is somewhat… unusual. I can’t wrap it, and you won’t be receiving it until New Year’s Eve,” he said primly.

“Ooohh…” Crowley arched an eyebrow, visibly interested. “I can’t _wait_ to see what it is.”

Aziraphale took off his glasses and laid them atop the coffee table, before pushing Crowley down onto his back. “I think you’ll be _quite_ pleased…” was all the Selkie said, before shucking off his coat entirely.

How appropriate, considering that’s what Aziraphale was going to give him…

***~*~*~*~***

**January 31st, 2021 (1 Hour Before Midnight)**

Aziraphale fidgeted nervously on the shoreline as he waited for his love to meet him there. All day Crowley had been excited to receive his “mystery present” but had, instead, been told to wait until the evening so it could be properly prepared.

In truth, Aziraphale was _terrified._

Few Selkies, at least none that he knew, had _willingly_ given up their seal-skin before. 

Oh there had been _stories,_ of course, but they were all mainly cautionary tales.

_Don’t ever willingly give up your coat. The human you choose to marry might not be worth it._

_Don’t ever willingly give up your coat. If you do, as long as the human possesses it, you can never return to your true form._

_Don’t ever willingly give up your coat. If you do, and then take it back, you can never return to the land again._

_Don’t ever willingly give up your coat. To do so, and have it rejected, is to die._

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if that last one was a metaphor for the pain of heartbreak, or more _literal,_ but it didn’t matter. He knew, deep into his soul, that Crowley would _never_ turn down his offer. 

_Speak of the Devil…_

Through the chilly night, Aziraphale could see the tell-tale saunter of his love making his way down to the beach.

“Bloody Hell, it’s _freezing,_ Aziraphale! At least I remembered a coat this time,”

Aziraphale took a breath to steel himself then said, “Speaking of coats…”

He removed his seal-skin, baring himself entirely (literally and metaphorically), then holding it out to Crowley. The redhead licked his lips lasciviously. 

“Oh? Is this my gift? Making love under the night sky on the spot we first met? I have to say, I’m _very impressed…”_

“N-no, it’s not that. But put a pin in that idea for later,” Aziraphale replied. “Crowley, I love you more than _anything._ More than chocolates, more than books, more than the _sea itself._ So that’s why… I want you to have this. As a testament to my devotion, and a sign of my willingness to live with you as a human does; fully.”

The Selkie pressed the coat into Crowley’s hands and he could feel the Transaction in his soul. He felt his connection to the sea sever and, frankly, it wasn’t as devastating as he thought it would be. Now, all that was left to do was for Crowley to Accept, and they could begin their new lives _together._

Crowley, however, simply stood rooted to the spot, gazing at the seal-skin in horror.

“Angel, I…” he paused. “I _can’t_ accept this.”

Aziraphale staggered back as a chill sank into his bones that had nothing to do with the sting of Rejection. “W-why not?” he asked tentatively.

“Because it’s not _right!_ It’s not fair of you to give up the sea for me, when we’ve been living just _fine_ as we were! I don’t _need_ this coat. I don’t _want it!”_ Crowley insisted, and pushed it back into Aziraphale’s trembling hands.

The ice inside the Selkie sharpened painfully and he tried desperately to hand the coat back.

“B-but… Crowley… if you take my coat, then the sea will _never_ hold power over me again! I could live with you as we do now, yes, but without the pull of it constantly trying to drag me back! As long as I have this coat, you will always be _second_ to the sea and- and I don’t _want that!”_ he insisted.

Crowley took a step back and Aziraphale keened with loss.

“Angel, listen to me, I don’t _care_ if I’m second best,” the redhead explained. “I _won’t_ let you give up your home for me.” He turned and started walking away towards the Bentley. “I’m gonna give you some time to cool down and see it from my perspective. I’ll be back before midnight so we can celebrate properly.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to beg Crowley not to go, but the ice had spread to his lungs and throat, choking him. 

_Oh dear… I suppose that last part **was** literal… _

***~*~*~*~***

Crowley had driven for twenty minutes, turning his love’s words over in his head. Aziraphale had seemed desperate, almost _terrified_ when his gift had been rejected. What all did that _mean,_ exactly? 

In the months since they’d gotten together, Crowley had taken the time to brush up on every bit of Selkie lore he could get his grubby mitts on, asking Aziraphale to fill in the blanks when he had questions that a book couldn’t answer. One pattern he had noticed leapt to mind.

Selkies almost _never_ surrendered their skins of their own free will.

Crowley pulled the car onto the shoulder as another thought occurred to him: What happens if a Selkie _does?_

He brought up his phone and did a quick Google search. While there was no wifi on the road, he had enough of a data signal to get the results he was looking for. 

_“What happens to a selkie who willingly gives up their coat?”_

The links were vague and didn’t really answer much, unfortunately. However, on the third “o”, he was able to find a picture that had his heart stuttering to a stop in his chest.

It was an old black-and-white photograph of a stone tablet, said to be written in the Selkie language itself, with a translation at the bottom. Most of it was just rules of conduct and behavior around humans, though there was a section apparently devoted to warning the more romantic Selkies against giving their skins away to humans.

_“Do not ever give up your coat. To have it rejected is to die.”_

Crowley flung his phone down into the passenger seat and yanked the wheel around. He floored it, and the Bentley faithfully tore down the road back in the direction of the cabin.

_Oh God, oh God, what have I done? What have I **done?!**_

Crowley grit his teeth, sending up desperate prayers that his Selkie would be alright; that he wouldn’t be too late to Accept the coat.

_Please, God, don’t take him from me. I can’t lose him! **Please!**_

He made it back to the cabin in ten minutes, not even bothering to kill the car’s engine as he threw himself out of it shouting, _“Aziraphale!”_

In the glow of the Bentley’s headlights, Crowley could see his poor Selkie sprawled sideways on the beach, back turned to him.

He screamed.


	3. Family and Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley manages to save Aziraphale, but a Selkie willingly breaking their ties with the sea does not come without its own host of difficulties...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the kids, I left their origins purposefully vague. Was it Selkie Magic mpreg? Good ol-fashioned human adoption? WHO KNOWS! It's up to YOU!

Crowley was _still_ screaming as he sprinted down the beach towards where his lover lay in an unmoving heap. He dropped to his knees in the sand beside Aziraphale and rolled him over to look at him.

The normally luminous cast to his skin had faded to a dull grey and his shut eyes lay sunken in, shadowed. His lips, once so pink and kissable, had turned _blue_ and Crowley could have _sworn_ there were ice crystals clinging to them. The human pressed two fingers against Aziraphale’s throat to feel for a pulse. God, his skin was _frigid!_

The Selkie’s pulse was present, but weak, and his breathing crackled as it wheezed out past parted lips.

“Hey- hey! Aziraphale! Wake up! I’m back!” Crowley babbled. “I came back to Accept your coat, angel! Where is it?”

Aziraphale was unable to answer, and Crowley looked wildly about, trying to catch a glimpse of pristine white fur.

It was nowhere on the beach, and the human started to panic.

Did Rejected Selkie coats dissolve or something?!

Then, he spotted a flash of white standing out against the inky blackness of the ocean. Aziraphale’s coat was bobbing merrily among the waves, being steadily carried away from the shore.

_“Fuck!”_

There was no way Crowley would be able to reach it without swimming out there! The water had to be 10°C, and at that temperature, he’d only have less than an hour before hypothermia-related unconsciousness set in! 

To save Aziraphale, though, it would be worth it.

Crowley allowed himself only half a second of mental preparation, and then he was charging pell-mell into the waves. The water was biting, and the shock of it stunned him for a moment, but he kept going until the seabed dropped out from beneath him and he was paddling through open water.

The coat floated _just_ out of reach, and Crowley stretched his hand out as far as it could go. Already he could feel his limbs seizing up from the numbing cold.

_Please, **please** don’t do this now. You **can't have him!** Do you hear me? He chose **me,** not **you!** If you give the coat back, I swear I’ll choose him too._

The waves then seemed to shift and the seal-skin drifted into Crowley’s waiting hand. He didn’t hesitate to drape it around himself (it was surprisingly light and warm) and begin swimming back to dry land.

The chilly December air hit Crowley like a lorry when he emerged from the water, but the seal-skin draped over his shoulders kept it from being agonizing. He staggered back to Aziraphale. Unsure of the proper protocol for bringing a Selkie back from the brink of death, Crowley simply laid down beside him like they had so many times in their shared bed: head pillowed on his chest, arms around his torso, and a leg wedged between his thighs. The human covered them both with the coat.

“I’m so sorry, Aziraphale. I didn’t know…” Crowley whispered. “I _Accept_ your freely given coat, and all that entails. I _love you.”_

The deathly still Selkie beneath him felt even colder than the water, and Crowley steadfastly ignored any corpse-like comparisons his mind could dredge up. A scorching tear slid down his cheek. He squeezed Aziraphale tighter, trying to impart what little body heat he had.

_Please, God, take it all for just one more of his heartbeats…_

Aziraphale began shivering.

Crowley jerked his head up with a watery gasp. Shivering was _good!_ Shivering meant his body was _fighting back!_ Aziraphale opened frost-rimmed eyelashes.

“C...Crowley?”

_“Aziraphale!”_

The Selkie’s eyes fell shut again, but color had begun returning to his body. Already his lips were lightening from dark blue to purple and soon they would be pink again. Crowley twisted around, gathering Aziraphale up into his arms in a bridal carry. “Hold on, love. Let’s get back to the cabin and get warmed up.”

Despite the clenching of his muscles, and the shivering that plagued his own form, Crowley was able to bundle Aziraphale up in his own coat and carry him back indoors.

***~*~*~*~***

Crowley reached into the bathtub and gently tested the water. It was lukewarm, which wouldn’t be _comfortable_ for either of them, but when warming up from hypothermia, one had to go slowly and carefully; warming back up too fast could cause cardiac arrest.

Aziraphale sat atop the closed toilet lid, blinking sluggishly and hugging his coat to him like the security blanket it was. As the tub continued filling, Crowley gently pressed a steaming mug of cocoa into the Selkie’s trembling hands.

“Come on, angel, drink up. We need to get our blood sugar up,” he said softly.

Aziraphale’s hands shook hard enough to splash a few drops onto the bathroom floor. He took a tentative sip of the warm liquid, then held it out imploringly towards Crowley, who lightly pushed it away.

“No, angel, _you_ drink it. I’ve already had mine,” he said. “I had a few sips while I was making yours.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but acquiesced, drinking the rest of his cocoa. By the time he was done, the tub was full. Crowley peeled off his own sodden clothes, and pulled the Selkie to his feet. He helped Aziraphale out of his coat and into the tub.

“Ngh… why isn’t this _warm?”_ the Selkie whined, giving an adorably petulant kick of his feet.

Crowley chuckled and lowered himself into the water behind him, pulling the still much-too-cold blonde into his lap and arms.

“‘S because if I make it _too_ warm too fast, we could both die,” he explained, pecking Aziraphale’s temple. “I’ll add more hot water once it’s not so dangerous.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and leaned back into his love’s embrace, the two of them feeding off of each other’s warmth in a closed-circuit feedback loop. For the longest time, neither of them said anything. Every so often, Crowley’s toe would nudge the hot water knob to turn and add a bit more warmth before turning it off again.

Then, soft enough to almost not be heard, “What happens now?”

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked sleepily.

“I mean… what happens to you now that you’re bound to me?”

“Well, not much changes really. Now that you own my coat, I can no longer change into my seal form, and the song of the sea is no longer mine to hear,”

Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder-blades.

“Oh, angel, I’m _so sorry,”_ he said softly. “I almost lost you tonight. Fuck… had I known that Rejecting your seal-skin would kill you… just- _fuck!”_

“It’s alright, my love. I’m just as much to blame. In hindsight, I probably should have discussed this with you beforehand,” Aziraphale replied, reaching a hand back to stroke his boyfriend’s hair.

“Yeah. You _should_ have!” Crowley huffed. “But… you can’t become a seal anymore?”

“Well, sort of. I still _can,_ but if I _did…_ I could never live on land ever again. If a coat is willingly surrendered, but later taken back, the Selkie does not die but the sea sort of ‘punishes’ us for our haste by keeping us from ever making that mistake again,”

“Well that’s just _great,_ innit?!” Crowley spat. “All the stories talk about your kind stealing their coat back and running into the arms of the sea once more! Eventually, the pull is gonna be too much and you’ll _leave me!_ And I’ll never see you again!”

The redhead finally broke down from the night’s events in a keening whine. He squeezed Aziraphale tighter, selfishly keeping him from fleeing the circle of his arms.

“Oh, my dearest, _no!_ By giving up my coat of my own free will, instead of having it taken by force, I’ve sundered the connection between the sea and I. It will _never_ hold power over me again, and I will _never_ leave you!” The Selkie said desperately, in a voice that was trying to reassure his lover of his convictions.

“Y… you mean that?” Crowley whimpered.

“Absolutely. It was why I was so adamant about giving it to you in the first place. I was _terrified_ that one day the call of the sea would be too much. This way, I can give myself fully to you,”

Aziraphale stroked the arms around his torso, and he could feel Crowley relaxing behind him.

“Well, then… if that’s the case…” The redhead pressed his mouth against the shell of his boyfriend’s ear. “...marry me.”

Aziraphale turned his head enough to look at him. “You… you want to marry me?”

“Of course I do!” Crowley exclaimed. “I was actually going to ask you properly tonight. I have a ring, and I _had_ a grand speech planned, but- well… anywho it doesn’t matter. Marry me you dumb, _gorgeous_ Selkie.”

Aziraphale laughed, both overjoyed and amused. “Oh very well, you mean thing. After everything that’s happened tonight, what’s one extra commitment?”

They met halfway in a tender kiss that carried with it the promise of a future.

***~*~*~*~***

**May 17, 2026**

Crowley peeked around the corner of his bedroom, watching his husband putter about the kitchen preparing some sweet treat or other. The redhead sucked in a deep breath for what he wanted to ask, plastered on a smile (that looked more like a pained grimace), and stepped out of the room.

 _“Angel!”_ he said, a bit louder than was strictly necessary.

Aziraphale yelped and staggered back, clutching the counter for support with one hand and his chest with the other.

 _“Goodness Gracious Heavens Above!_ You scared the _dickens_ out of me!” he scolded.

Crowley winced and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Sorry about that,” he said, coming forward to stand closer to his husband.

Aziraphale pecked him on the cheek. “It’s quite alright, darling. You simply startled me is all,” He then caught sight of Crowley’s hunched shoulders, and nervous eyes that didn’t sit still. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah! Everything’s fine!” the redhead said quickly, yanking his hands out of his pockets to hold them up as if he were fending off an attacker. “I just… had something I wanted to ask you.”

“By all means, ask away then,” Aziraphale said with a casual gesture.

“This is… um… actually… you’ll want to sit down for this question,” Crowley muttered, staring at the floor.

Bemused (and slightly concerned) Aziraphale pulled out a chair from the table and sat down in it. 

“Alright then, what’s your question?” he asked, patting the chair next to him. “Did something happen? You’re starting to scare me.”

Crowley took his seat next to his husband in the empty chair. “Shit, I… it’s nothing bad! I promise!” he explained with a frightened chuckle. “I just… how would you feel about having kids? Starting a family?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth, then closed it. Opened it again. Closed it again. He glanced around nervously and Crowley’s heart sank to his knees.

“I… I suppose I hadn’t really thought about it,” he replied in a half-whisper. Crowley thought that his heart couldn’t drop any further, but this time it did; straight to the floor. “I… it’s just… I…” Aziraphale bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to nearly draw blood with how sharp his canines were. Then he let out a sob. “Oh, Crowley, I’m lying! I _do_ want them, but I _know_ you’re just asking a hypothetical question and- and-”

Crowley’s once shattered heart immediately reconstituted itself and soared straight back into his chest where it beat loudly and _excitedly._ He seized both of Aziraphale’s hands and brought them to his lips to kiss the knuckles.

“Don’t cry, my lovely Selkie. I _wasn’t_ just ‘asking a hypothetical’,” he said, continuing to press grateful kisses to the backs of Aziraphale’s hands. “I _want_ to start a family with you. I was afraid because I thought _you_ didn’t want that.”

“Wha- you- you do?” Aziraphale asked hopefully, scooting his chair closer. _“I_ was afraid that _you_ didn’t want to! I thought you had found out about my secret wishes and were trying to let me down gently.”

Crowley, still clasping his husband’s hands, leaned forward to press their foreheads together.

“Angel. _My angel._ I’m so glad we’re on the same page, I- Aziraphale?!”

The Selkie pitched to the side suddenly and Crowley had to catch him to keep him from falling to the ground. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you okay?”

Aziraphale groaned and placed a hand to his forehead. 

“Y-yes, I’m fine. Just got a bit over excited is all,” he said.

“Well, here. Let’s go sit down on the couch for a bit. We can talk more about kids when you’re feeling better,” Crowley said, helping him to stand.

“That sounds wonderful, dearest,”

***~*~*~*~***

**November 27, 2027**

Crowley kicked open the door to the cabin, arms laden down with shopping bags filled with what could only be described as “baby supplies”.

“For _fuck’s sake!”_ he groaned. “That took _way_ longer than necessary. Also, you’d think they would have sent us home with a few ‘first-time parent goodies’ but _nooooo.”_

 _“Language,_ Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded, coming in through the door behind him, a swaddled infant pressed to his chest. “I don’t want Aurora having your potty-mouth.”

“She’s a _newborn!_ ‘S not like she even understands what I’m saying,” Crowley griped. He set the bags down on the floor and leaned over his daughter with a playful smirk. “Do ya, starlight?”

Aurora burbled up at him and reached a pink pudgy fist up to bop against his nose.

Aziraphale smiled and kissed her forehead. 

When he pulled back, Crowley noticed that his husband’s once pristinely white hair was now fading to black at the roots. “Oi, angel, yer hair’s changing color. Is that normal for Selkies?”

Aziraphale made a tiny noise of surprise, and fingered at the off-colored strands.

“Huh. That’s odd. I suppose it must just be all the stress from these past few months getting to me,” he said off-handedly. “Getting to bring our little girl home was _worth_ it, though.”

Aurora shrieked, the kind of baby shriek that was neither good nor bad but simply testing their vocal cords, and kicked out with her little sock feet.

Crowley sighed happily. “Yeah. She was.”

***~*~*~*~***

**August 7, 2030**

“Get _back here,_ you little terror!” Aziraphale shouted as he chased Aurora up and down the beach. “That’s _daddy’s_ coat, not yours!”

“Mine!” giggled his daughter, dragging the seal-skin in the sand behind her. 

Crowley watched from the porch, shielding his eyes with his hand and shouting, “Atta girl! You keep that dusty old thing away from him so he can never go back to the sea!”

Aziraphale stopped running after the little girl and turned to his husband, hands resting on his hips. 

“You stop with that nonsense, Anthony J. Crowley! You know I’d never-”

The Selkie doubled over as a shuddering wheeze wracked his body. Crowley was off the porch in an instant, running over to rub a comforting hand over his husband’s back.

“Bloody Hell, angel,” he worried. “That cough of yours is back again?”

Aziraphale gave a few more hacks before they passed, then straightened himself up. “I’m afraid so, dearest,” he sighed. “It’ll pass, though. Same as all the other times.”

“I think you need to take a break. Let’s all go inside for some lunch,” Crowley suggested. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle, attracting Aurora’s attention from where she splashed about in the shallows. “Oi, starlight, bring daddy back his coat and we’ll let you help us make lunch!”

The little girl gasped in delight and toddled back towards her fathers, tugging the coat behind her.

Aziraphale watched her approach. It seemed like only yesterday she’d been taking her first steps. Now she was old enough to pilfer Selkie coats in a game of keep-away. 

The owner of said coat leaned into his husband’s embrace with a secretive smile. “What would you say to having another child, dearest?”

“Ngk!”

***~*~*~*~***

**September 4, 2031**

“Alright, ducky, open up…” 

Crowley pressed a spoonful of mushed peas under his daughter Robin’s nose. The toddler made a noise of disgust and slapped the spoon away, sending it clattering under the fridge. “Blood Hell… that’s the fourth spoon I’ve lost in the last hour…”

Robin babbled and smeared her vegetables across her high-chair tray in streaks of green, red, and orange. Across the table from her, Aurora leaned in conspiratorially.

“‘S okay, sis,” she whispered. “I don’t like ‘em either.”

“Oi! Don’t be giving her any ideas! One kid not eating her veggies is bad enough!” Crowley ordered. He pointed a new spoon threateningly at Aurora, who sat there looking the picture of cherubic innocence.

It was at that moment Aziraphale staggered into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Daddy!”

“Da-ga!”

“Hey, angel,” Crowley smiled. He stood out of his chair and kissed his husband’s forehead. “How was your nap?”

He didn’t ask if Aziraphale was feeling any better.

He knew he wasn’t

The past few days had seen a sudden downturn in his husband’s health. Aziraphale was fatigued more often than not, with a horrible rasping cough. He had no fever, and the doctors they took him to all insisted that it was just a cold and would pass soon enough, but Crowley wasn’t so sure. Even Aziraphale’s _hair_ seemed dull and lifeless, more black than white now.

In short, Crowley was _terrified,_ but he had to keep a brave face for his family.

“I… um…” Aziraphale stood on his tiptoes to whisper in Crowley’s ear. “I had another nightmare.”

That had been another bizarre occurrence.

As Aziraphale had gotten sicker, he’d started experiencing nightmares centered around the ocean. In all of them, there was a terrible storm, and black waves constantly reached for him, threatening to drag him down.

Crowley immediately suspected that it had _something_ to do with his husband’s Selkie roots, but Aziraphale had vehemently denied it.

Said Selkie, of course, was lying…

***~*~*~*~***

**One Week Later**

Crowley was jolted out of sleep by a tremendous thunderclap. He sat upright with a _snrk!_ and groped around in the darkness of his bedroom for his husband.

The mattress was empty.

“Angel?” 

He flicked on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with soft, golden light.

Aziraphale was nowhere to be seen.

Crowley instantly seized up with paralyzing dread.

_No. No! He can’t have gone back to the sea! He wouldn’t! He promised!_

He threw the covers off of himself and ran into the hallway.

_Maybe he only just left! Maybe I can catch him and drag him back! Beg him to stay!_

Crowley would have run straight out into the storm had he not trodden upon something warm and _alive_ on the hallway outside their daughters’ bedroom. The thing on the floor groaned in pain and Crowley turned on the hall light.

_“Aziraphale!”_

The Selkie lay curled up into a ball right outside the girls’ room, one hand fisted into his sealskin and the other pressed against the door. Crowley didn’t hesitate to go to his knees and gather him up in his arms. He turned the Selkie over in his arms and let out a moan of despair.

Aziraphale’s eyes had gone from icy-blue to stark white. So much so, that the iris was practically indistinguishable from the sclera, save for a thin ring of black around the pupil. His curls were _entirely_ ebon, save for a single snowy curl hanging in front of his gaunt face.

“Holy _shit,_ Aziraphale! I need to call 999!” 

Crowley moved to stand, but the Selkie gripped his arm like a vice and shook his head weakly.

“N-no… ‘s too late. Just- just let me see our- our girls one last time,” he gritted out.

“‘One last time’? What are you talking about? You’re not-” Crowley’s thoughts came upon a horrific realization. Tears sprang to his eyes as he stared accusingly down at the man in his arms. “You… you _bastard!_ You _knew_ you were dying! You _knew_ what giving up your coat would do to you!”

Aziraphale’s disturbing eyes went wide. “N-no! Crowley, please believe me! When… when I gave you my coat… I had _no idea_ this would happen! I _didn’t!”_ he insisted. “I… _yes_ I sus- suspected something was happening, b-but it wasn’t until _recently_ that I knew what it was.”

“Yeah? Well what’s _happening?!”_ Crowley demanded.

Aziraphale made a strange noise that was somewhere between a wheeze and a laugh. He caressed his husband’s face with a shaky hand. “It… it seems that no Selkie can survive forever without the song of the sea in their ears. Even ones who… who gave it up willingly.” His hand started to slip and Crowley caught it, pressing it back to his cheek. “Just… just let me see Aurora and Robin be-before I… I…”

The Selkie screwed his eyes shut and whimpered, a tear leaking out to drip to the floorboards. Crowley sucked in a shaky breath and hefted his husband up. _“No._ I _won’t_ let you die! I’m bringing you back, Aziraphale.”

“‘Back’?” Aziraphale echoed. “B-back where?”

“Home,”

Aziraphale realized what Crowley was planning just as the human ran for the front door, carrying him along.

“C-Crowley? No! _Stop!”_ The Selkie pleaded to be let go and squirmed and fought every step of the way, but his husband was stronger.

“I’m sorry, Aziraphale, but I can’t let you die. Not like this,” Crowley sobbed through his tears and the driving rain.

“Don’t! If I go back to the sea, I- I’ll never see you or Aurora or Robin again!” Aziraphale begged.

“Better that than you dying!”

“Crowley, _stop!_ I’d r-rather die in our house _today_ than live as a seal _alone!”_

The dark, turbulent waters of the ocean came into sight and Aziraphale gave one last struggle to get away, but Crowley only tightened his grip further as he walked straight into the waves.

“I love you, angel. Our girls love you. Never forget that,” he whispered, and dunked the Selkie under the water.

He couldn’t see through the pitch-blackness, but Crowley could _feel_ Aziraphale’s skin under his hands ripple and change. Then, quick as it started, the silky fur was ripped out of his grasp by the current. “Wait, no! _Angel!!”_

Crowley plunged his arms into the water, feeling desperately around in the darkness for his seal-husband. 

There was nothing.

Nothing but sand and rain and seawater.

He didn’t even know if the shifting had saved Aziraphale, or if it had been too late. Perhaps Crowley had accidentally _drowned him!_

The human fell back on his rear in the surf, the ocean foaming around him.

“Aziraphale!” he screamed into the night. _“Aziraphale!!”_

No snow-white seal emerged. No familiar mop of hair did either, but it mattered little. 

Either way, Aziraphale was gone.

Crowley clutched at the sides of his head and howled long and loud, lamentations echoing into the storm.


	4. To Be Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley grapples with the choice he has made...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for implied/referenced suicide.

Crowley didn’t go back to bed that night.

After screaming, crying, begging, and screaming some more until he was hoarse and had no more tears to shed, he stumbled back to the cabin and sat at the kitchen table, dripping with rain and seawater. He sat there all through the rest of the night and into the morning, thinking of nothing; his mind mercifully blank. 

He was brought back to awareness by the little pitter-patter of Aurora’s feet. She rubbed sleepily at her eyes with a tiny fist, her stuffed seal toy tucked under one arm. The sight of the toy almost sent Crowley back into hysterics, but he managed to keep his expression carefully neutral.

He rose out of his chair and kneeled in front of his daughter. “Hey, starlight, what are you doing up so early? It’s not even seven.” he asked with a gentle smile to hide the fact that he was slowly falling apart from the inside.

Aurora practically unhinged her jaw in a wide yawn. “Bad dream. Wanted you and daddy. Where is he?”

Crowley opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. 

_What the fuck do I say?! How the **fuck** am I supposed to tell them that their daddy’s… he’s… _

He couldn’t very well tell Aurora that Aziraphale was never coming back. If he _did_ , he couldn’t tell her that _Papa_ had been the one to send him away. She’d never forgive him, even if it _was_ to save Aziraphale’s life. 

Aurora was looking at him expectantly, however, but he needed more time to come up with a believable explanation that wouldn’t end up doing a disservice to his potentially-late husband’s memory.

So he put off telling her. 

“Your dad was... _is_ very sick. Do you remember?”

Aurora nodded, clutching her stuffie tighter. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” she whimpered.

Crowley’s heart clenched painfully. All his lie was doing was buying more time. He knew, deep down, he would have to tell her the truth eventually. “Y-yeah. He’s fine. I took him to the hospital last night so he can get better.”

Aurora’s mouth pressed into a thin, considering line. “When will he be back?”

“Ah- er... a week. He’ll be back in a week,” Crowley fibbed, clenching his fist hard enough to leave crescent-shaped nail-marks on his palm.

“Can we go visit him? He’ll be lonely!”

_“I’d rather die in our house today than live as a seal alone!”_

Crowley stared blankly at the floor, his husband’s last words to him echoing in his head. 

The last thing Aziraphale had ever said to him had been a desperate plea not to let him be alone...

And Crowley had done it anyway.

“No, starlight,” he sighed, not looking at how his daughter’s face fell. “He’s, um... he’s contagious and wants us to stay safe. Do you know what ‘contagious’ means?”

Aurora shook her head.

“Well, ‘contagious’ means that, if we were to go visit him, _we_ would get sick too. He wouldn’t want that, would he?”

“No...”

Aurora's face was downcast, but she didn’t protest further. Crowley gave her a wobbly smile, and stood back up. 

“How about we make some crepes for breakfast while we...” he swallowed the lie that he so _desperately_ wanted to be a truth. “...while we wait for him to get back?”

***~*~*~*~***

**3 Days Later**

Crowley walked down the length of the beach in front of the cabin, thoughts miles and miles away. Earlier that day he’d hired a babysitter from the neighboring town to drive out and watch his daughters (he’d offered to pay for her gas money to and from, considering the length of the drive) while he took an afternoon for himself.

Said afternoon consisted of him walking as far away from his home as he could on foot in an attempt to put some distance between him and the painful memories associated with the place. He knew he’d have to go back eventually, but at the moment, it seemed too daunting a task.

 _God,_ he’d thought being cheated on by Maya hurt...

For three days he’d been miserable. He would have been perfectly happy to lay in bed and waste away to nothing, but his daughters needed him. Aurora asked every day if Aziraphale was ready to come home yet, and Robin had started having trouble sleeping without her daddy’s lullabies. Crowley had given the songs that good ol’ college-try, but Aziraphale’s voice had been unique, _otherworldly,_ and his human husband just didn’t quite have the vocal chops for it.

Every night, Crowley was plagued with questions and misgivings.

Had he done the right thing?

Would it have been more ethical, more _merciful,_ to have allowed Aziraphale the gift of a death on his own terms, rather than a life of isolation?

Was the Selkie even still _alive?_

Had Crowley been too late?

Whenever those questions came up, he did his utmost best to banish them. Pondering over the what-ifs would drive him to madness if he let them.

He had made his choice.

_But can I live with it?_

That thought had him staggering to a stop.

No.

He _couldn’t_ live with it.

Crowley ground the heel of his palm against his eyes, breath hitching in weak sobs. He knew, down to the very quarks of the atoms of the _cells_ in his body, that he would regret his choice until the day he died and probably beyond.

As he pulled his hands away from his face, he caught sight of something flickering in the distance. It looked like a beach bonfire, but that couldn’t be; there was nobody else for _miles._ Crowley walked towards it and, as he drew closer, he saw a stupidly, wonderfully, _beautifully_ familiar figure standing by the fire.

Aziraphale, against all belief, was there; as hale and hearty as he’d been the first day they met.

Crowley was moving even before he was consciously aware of doing so, dashing to his husband with thick, joyous tears rolling down his cheeks. Aziraphale, however, didn’t see him. The Selkie’s face was hard with sharp, determined lines as he stared into the crackling flames, his seal-skin clutched in his hands.

Then, before Crowley could even shout at him to stop, Aziraphale tossed his coat onto the pyre.

_“No!!”_

“Crowley?”

Aziraphale _finally_ turned to look at him, eyes alight with happiness, but his smile quickly morphed into an agonized scream as he dropped to the sand. He scrabbled at his arms and face as if batting away invisible flames as he howled and writhed.

_“Aziraphale!”_

Crowley’s hands hovered over the agonized Selkie, unsure of what he could do to help. Aziraphale just kept _screaming and screaming and screaming!_

_Oh God! This is all my fault! I forced him to do this!_

There was nothing Crowley could do but clutch his husband to him, offering up desperate apologies for driving him to take his own life.

“C-Crowley! It- it _burns!_ ” Aziraphale wailed, gripping his husband’s shirt hard enough to split the seams.

“I know, I know, angel. I’m so sorry! It’ll be over soon; I love you _so, so much!”_ Crowley bawled.

He rocked the two of them in the sand as Aziraphale continued shrieking and the last strands of his coat burned to ash.

When every bit of it was gone, the Selkie finally went limp. Crowley wordlessly howled his grief and loss, shifting onto his rear so he could cradle his husband’s body in his lap. 

_“God..._ forgive me, angel,” he took a shaky breath. “Forgive me.”

His eyes overflowed with tears as he pressed a trembling kiss to a sweat-soaked brow.

Wait...

Selkies didn’t sweat.

They _couldn’t_ sweat.

They didn’t have _sweat glands!_

Crowley took a closer look. 

Aziraphale’s skin was still creamy, but it no longer carried the faint glow it used to. Instead, it was tinged slightly _pink._ His hair was still blonde, but it was now a soft gold rather than platinum.

He looked...

He looked _human._

As if on cue, Aziraphale groaned and opened his eyes. Crowley was unable to stifle a gasp at the sight of them.

Where once his husband’s eyes had been the lightest shade of blue, like glaciers, they had now darkened to the color of sea-glass.

“Angel... you- what did you _do?”_ Crowley whispered, tracing one rosy cheek with his thumb.

Aziraphale huffed out a weak laugh and tried to push himself up into a seated position. Crowley, unwilling to let him leave the circle of his arms and lap, kept him from doing so. 

The blonde huffed petulantly but allowed himself to be held. “Sorry I was gone for so long, my love. I had to get a few things together before I could come back home.”

“‘Come back-’? But... but I thought...”

Aziraphale gently cupped his face, bringing it down to rest their foreheads together.

“It’s true that I could no longer live on land. So I did what I had to do to be able to see you and our daughters again,” he whispered into the scant space between them.

“You... you became human by destroying your coat,” Crowley marvelled. _“That’s_ why you were so terrified of fire all the time! You knew what it could do!”

Aziraphale beamed proudly and wiggled. “Indeed! Took a bit of work, though. Walking back on land was like needles under my skin all the time! The only respite I had from the pain was back in my seal form.”

Crowley gestured wildly at the still-smouldering bonfire on the beach. “Then how did you do _that?!”_

“Ah! Heh, I may have... maybe snuck into the cabin last night and pilfered your lighter. Terribly sorry, my love, but my thievery was for a good cause! I would have woken you up to tell you my plan, but I could barely _think_ past the excruciation of being on land again,”

Crowley swallowed, his mouth dry.

“Is... is this it, then?” he asked. “You're not... you’re not gonna spontaneously combust another ten years down the line, are you?”

The former-Selkie laughed at that.

“No, my darling,” he sighed happily. “This is it. I’m just as human as you and our girls.”

Crowley’s face contorted in a mixture of grief and incandescent joy.

“Angel... you came _back,”_ he sniffed brokenly.

“I _did,_ my love. How could I not?” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley inhaled sharply, simultaneously grateful and bereaved, as tears slipped down his face.

“I- I-” He wrapped one hand around Aziraphale’s back, crushing their bodies together as his other hand fisted into downy curls. “I was _terrified!_ You were gone or dead and- and _I was too!_ I mean, I wasn’t _dead-dead_ but- but I may as well have been and- _shit!”_

Aziraphale tried to squirm away a bit so he could better see his husband, but Crowley just tightened his hold, too afraid to let him go again. The blonde managed to wriggle an arm free to wrap loosely around the other’s lower back.

“I’m here, my darling,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

Without warning, Crowley (the scant few inches between them were _unbearable_ \- may as well have been a _gulf)_ darted down, closing the agonizing space to claim his husband’s mouth. Aziraphale let out a happy little nameless sound that Crowley swallowed eagerly. He was thankful, beyond words, that he got to hear his angel’s pretty sounds once more. He tightened his hand in Aziraphale’s hair at the same time his tongue snuck into the other’s mouth to taste what he thought he would never get to again.

The bliss of their reunion filled his heart, zinged in his blood, all the way to the tips of his tingling fingers. Crowley wrenched his mouth away from Aziraphale’s to trail kisses, licks, and nibbles down his neck as he pressed him down to the sand.

***~*~*~*~***

It was a _very strange sight_ that Rosalie the Babysitter was treated to when she looked out the living room window of Mr. Crowley’s cabin.

The man himself was walking up to the house, but… sans pants? His shirt and hair were both mussed and covered in sand, and Rosalie could see that his boxer shorts had little yellow ducks on them. Mr. Crowley was hand-in-hand with another man she’d never seen before. This fellow had no shirt, (or _shoes!)_ but was… wearing the redhead’s pants? Both of them shared a look of such overwhelming love that Rosalie briefly felt like she’d accidentally stumbled on them in the middle of an anniversary dinner.

The teenager adjusted Robin against her hip and turned to where Aurora was coloring on the kitchen table.

“Aurora, your papa is back. There’s also a blonde man with him…”

Aurora gasped and jumped out of the chair, running for the door.

 _“Daddy!”_ she shrieked, throwing it open.

“Oh my little one, how I’ve missed you!” Aziraphale laughed, scooping her up as tears sprang to his eyes. He caught sight of Robin making grabby-hands at him and managed to shift his hold on Aurora to take the toddler into his arms as well. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long, my darlings. I’ll _never_ leave you both again!”

He kissed the tops of two small heads.

“Are you still can-ti-gee-us?” Aurora asked, pronouncing the word slowly.

Aziraphale arched an eyebrow at his husband who gave him a sheepish look that promised he would explain later.

“No, starlight, your dad’s fine,” Crowley explained. “He’s all better now. He’s home.”

He glanced over to his husband, who could see the fragile, nervous hope there in his eyes. It was a look that was asking, in not so many words, if this moment was real; that it wasn’t all some grief-induced hallucination.

Aziraphale beckoned Crowley closer with a jerk of his head, and he did so, arms encasing his family.

“It’s good to be home; to _stay home,”_ the former-Selkie said, and kissed him.

***~*~*~*~***

After paying Rosalie for her time (as well as a hefty bonus to keep mum about Crowley’s “duck boxers”) the family of four spent the rest of the day cuddled up in a pile on the couch, watching the telly and just revelling in the feeling of closeness.

Eventually, though, both Aurora and Robin needed to be put down for bed-time. Once they were (lullabies once again requested and happily given) Crowley and Aziraphale went back to their bedroom.

“Ahhh… it’s _good_ to be back on a _proper_ mattress,” the blonde sighed, sinking down onto their bed. “I can’t believe I used to consider _seaweed beds_ the height of luxury.”

He looked at Crowley, who was hovering nervously by the door, and patted the bedspread next to him. Crowley scooted forward, then sat down beside his husband heavily.

The two of them shared a knowing look, but it was Crowley who spoke first. “Angel is this… are you really _here?_ Twice now I’ve almost lost you and… _fuck!_ ‘M scared to even _blink_ in case I open my eyes and you’re gone.”

“I’m real, my darling,” Aziraphale said, inching closer to rest his head against Crowley’s shoulder. “I understand that you’re afraid. I won’t force you to feel any different. But I promise on my coat, if I’d still had it, that I’m not going anywhere.”

Crowley released a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding until now. His arm came up around Aziraphale and they both fell backward onto the mattress.

“I believe you, angel. Thank you for coming home to me,” he whispered.

“Thank _you,_ my love. If you hadn’t done what you did that night, and tossed me back to the sea, I would never have gotten this chance to become human. So, again, thank you. You _saved me;_ saved _us,”_

Crowley’s breath hitched and he rolled onto his side to pull Aziraphale close, arms and legs wrapped around him like a constrictor. The events of the past few days still weighed heavily on his shoulders, but now he could feel it lessening under the echoing in his head chanting, _“I did the right thing. I did the right thing. I saved my angel, and I did the right thing.”_

Aziraphale hummed happily and embraced Crowley in return. Neither of them bothered moving from that spot the rest of the night, sleeping so closely entwined it would take nothing short of a crowbar to pry them apart.

In the morning, Crowley would gripe about how cold he had been without a blanket (that was a lie, he’d never been warmer) and Aziraphale would wince at the stiffness in his joints (well worth it, in his mind). The two of them would then go wake up their daughters for breakfast. Aurora would demand crepes, Robin would refuse to eat her mushed fruit, and life would continue on as normal.

Some nights, when Crowley was asleep and Aziraphale was certain he could get away with it, the former-Selkie would open the window of their bedroom and lean out, just a little. He would tell himself it was just because he couldn’t sleep and the sea-breeze had a somewhat calming effect, but he knew the truth, deep down.

He was straining to catch just one more note of the song of the sea.

As long as he lived, Aziraphale would _never_ regret his choice to become human. Even on his deathbed, grey and wrinkled, clutching his husband’s equally wizened hand, he didn’t regret it.

It didn’t stop him, however, from missing the music he once heard; music that no human ears were ever permitted to enjoy.

On those nights he would sigh, close the window, and sneak back into bed, thankful that he hadn’t woken Crowley.

Crowley knew, however.

On the nights where Aziraphale yearned for the sea, Crowley would pretend to be asleep, but secretly watch him through half-closed eyes. The first time it had occurred, Crowley had nearly jumped out of bed to beg on his knees for Aziraphale not to go, but when his husband returned to the shelter of their covers, he learned he needn’t have worried.

So he pretended not to notice Aziraphale’s wistful sighs. He knew that Aziraphale might not appreciate him interrupting such a private, solemn moment that he took for himself. He knew, one day, he would talk about it when he was ready.

In the meantime, they would love each other as fiercely and devotedly as they knew how…

...and every New Year’s Eve, share in a red box of fireworks.


End file.
